ill
take my paper for this week now I am here, so that you needn't post it
to me.'

The stranger then slightly turned his head, saw Owen, and recognized
him. Owen passed out without recognizing the other as Manston.

Manston then looked at the reporter, who, after walking to the door with
Owen, had come back again to lock up his books. Manston did not need to
be told that the shabby marble-covered book which he held in his
hand, opening endways and interleaved with blotting-paper, was an
old reporting-book. He raised his eyes to the reporter's face, whose
experience had not so schooled his features but that they betrayed a
consciousness, to one half initiated as the other was, that his late
proceeding had been connected with events in the life of the steward.
Manston said no more, but, taking his newspaper, followed Owen from the
office, and disappeared in the gloom of the street.

Edward Springrove was now in London again, and on this same evening,
before leaving Casterbridge, Owen wrote a careful letter to him, stating
therein all the facts that had come to his knowledge, and begging
him, as he valued Cytherea, to make cautious inquiries. A tall man
was standing under the lamp-post, about half-a-dozen yards above the
post-office, when he dropped the letter into the box.

That same night, too, for a reason connected with the rencounter with
Owen Graye, the steward entertained the idea of rushing off suddenly to
London by the mail-train, which left Casterbridge at ten o'clock.
But remembering that letters posted after the hour at which Owen had
obtained his information--whatever that was--could not be delivered
in London till Monday morning, he changed his mind and went home to
Knapwater. Making a confidential explanation to his wife, arrangements
were set on foot for his departure by the mail on Sunday night.

3. MARCH THE ELEVENTH

Starting for church the next morning several minutes earlier than was
usual with him, the steward intentionally loitered along the road from
the village till old Mr. Springrove overtook him. Manston spoke very
civilly of the morning, and of the weather, asking how the farmer's
barometer stood, and when it was probable that the wind might change. It
was not in Mr. Springrove's nature--going to church as he was, too--to
return anything but a civil answer to such civil questions, however his
feelings might have been biassed by late events. The conversation was
continued on terms of grea